


You Never Hope for Something More

by madziraphale



Series: Thalia Amell and Co. [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Amell needs help, Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Insecurity, Mage Best Friends!, Sister-Sister Relationship, re-imagining the rose scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madziraphale/pseuds/madziraphale
Summary: What would Alistair ever see in her? He was everything Thalia wasn’t—openly kind, brave, and just a bit silly. If her looks alone weren’t deterrent enough, she was sure her instinctive prickliness and bookishness would drive him off eventually...Amell's insecurities threaten to strangle her. Elysia Surana once again keeps her friend's head above water and helps her land somewhere among the stars.
Relationships: Alistair/Amell (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Amell (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), slight Zevran/Surana
Series: Thalia Amell and Co. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726957
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	You Never Hope for Something More

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, this is a long one, but it was a labor of love the whole way down. My Origins kick continues and I can't stop the Alistair/Amell train from pulling me along behind it. I'm hoping to do something with my Surana and Zevran soon! For now, enjoy!

_Thwack!_

Alistair’s ax split another log, and he added the broken pieces to the steadily growing pile off to the side. He’d shed his shirt a while back, and his broad, freckled shoulders began to glisten with sweat in the evening light. 

...Not that Amell was paying him any mind. No, that would be ridiculous!

Alistair bent to retrieve another log, placing it on the chopping block before stretching casually, as if his strong, sturdy arms didn’t make Thalia feel like she was melting in her robes. The mage chased another line of sweat as it ran past the medallion of Alistair’s amulet, her rational thoughts drowning in her girlish fantasies.

“You know, if you keep staring like that he’s going to think you’re plotting to kill him rather than fantasizing about kissing him senseless,” Surana said casually. Thalia fought the flush from her cheeks as she shot her friend a withering look, but the elf ignored her, eyes still glued to the tome in her lap. 

“Are you going to give me the next ingredient for this poison oak salve or what? I don’t think Sten can take much more of the constant itching.” As if he were privy to their chat, the qunari grumbled frustratedly from across the campsite, scratching through his tunic with a painfully-rough-looking stick. 

Thalia’s eyes flew back to the book in her own hands, eyes breezing through the familiar text before finding where she and Elysia had left off in their recipe. “Just a gram of dried elfroot,” Amell muttered, attempting to keep any emotion from her voice. She stole a glance at her friend, watching as the elf expertly combined the last ingredient to her mortar, crushing the concoction together and smiling when it all seemed to congeal as it should. Not that either mage thought it wouldn’t, of course; Surana had been among the best apothecary students in Kinloch. 

Once she was satisfied, Elysia stood, uncaring of the leaves stuck to her skirt. “I’m going to give this to Wynne,” she said, wearing a look her human friend knew all too well. “Don’t you move a muscle, sweets. We’re over-do for some girl-talk.” With that, Elysia swept away, leaving Amell to stew in her embarrassment. 

She couldn’t help but watch her friend as she strode away. Surana was tall, all lean muscles and confident grace. The elf’s afro of dark curls framed her head like a halo, and her warm, brown skin glowed in the waning evening light. Elysia was the object of many affections in the circle—who could blame them?

_Thwack!_

Another splitting log brought Thalia’s gaze back to Alistair, but thankfully, she was able to contain her rampant emotions this time. She closed the book in her lap with a heavy sigh, setting it on the root nearest where she sat. One of her rings caught a stray beam of sunlight, and Amell found herself staring at her hands as her thoughts tumbled down a very familiar road. 

What would Alistair ever see in _her_? He was everything Thalia wasn’t—openly kind, brave, and just a bit silly. If her looks alone weren’t deterrent enough, she was sure her instinctive prickliness and bookishness would drive him off eventually. Before she could slip into that painful yet familiar pocket of thought, Elysia reappeared, flopping into the grass at Thalia’s side. 

“So...you and Alistair, huh?” even when Amell shot Surana a deadly glare, the elf simply grinned back at her friend, unmoved. “Come on now, lovey, we’ve been bosom buddies since we were kids, and I’ve seen the types of books you kept in your trunk back in the Circle. He’s _exactly_ your type.” 

“But I’m certainly not his,” Thalia mumbled after a moment of silence. She regretted the words as soon as she’d said them, flinching back from the fierce, angry look Elysia aimed back at her. 

Still...Surana wanted to talk about it, didn’t she? Well, then, Amell wouldn’t hold back. “I mean, _look_ at me, El! I’m built for magical research in some Circle library, not being a Grey Warden. I’m not like...like you.” 

Thalia felt her eyes begin to sting, and she cursed under her breath. She hadn’t meant to get emotional like this. Maker, she _never_ cried, in front of _anyone._ In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d cried even once since Ostagar. She scowled as she wiped at her eyes, not caring much if she smeared the kohl lining. That’s what she got for bottling up her emotions, she figured.

“And why is being ‘like me’ such a good thing?” Surana’s voice was softer now, and she scooted closer to Thalia, gazing at her friend with concern in her golden eyes. “There’s already one of me, why would we need another? Wynne would say that just the one is more than enough for anyone.” The elf had hoped for a laugh at that, but not even a hint of a smile appeared. _Ah,_ she thought, _this is a serious one._

“You damn well _know_ why, Elysia!” Amell’s voice got them a few looks from their companions, but Surana waved them off with a carefree smile, selling the others on the lie that the two mages were having another one of their heated debates. 

“It’s...it’s like you were made for this life,” Thalia continued, quieter this time. “And you weren’t even supposed to be here! You just came along to hold my fucking hand…” she took a deep breath, shame constricting her stomach so harshly that one tear managed to slip out. “Besides, you and Alistair are much more alike anyhow. There are some times I think that I...I should’ve just let them make me tranquil. Then you could both save Ferelden without me slowing you down.”

Both mages sat in silence for a long, heavy moment. Thalia had surprised even herself with that last comment. Had her guilt and the pain of Jowan’s betrayal truly damaged her so deeply that even she didn’t realize it? She didn’t have much time to contemplate, however, as she was suddenly pinned to the grass, wrapped in a bone-crushing hug from Elysia. 

“Andraste’s arse, Tally, how...how long have you felt like this?” Surana whispered, her voice muffled from where she was buried in Amell’s shoulder. Thalia could already feel a wet spot forming from the elf’s tears. “And why didn’t you tell me sooner? You’re like my _sister,_ you...you…” Elysia took a deep breath, getting in one last thorough squeeze before pulling back to meet Thalia’s eyes. 

“You’re a wonderful, _beautiful_ person, Thalia Amell,” Elysia stated so firmly that Amell almost believed her on instinct. Surana wiped the tears from Thalia’s cheeks as she continued. “You’re smart and brave and willing to do anything for those you care for. The fact that Jowan took advantage of that is his loss alone. I know how you felt about him, sweets.” 

Amell’s cheeks flushed automatically at the mention of her former crush, one she hadn’t even realized she’d had until it was far too late. Jowan had been her closest friend aside from Elysia, and the revelation that he had been lying to her not only about his relationship with Lily but about his practice of blood magic had only compounded the crushing pain of being sent away with Duncan. 

“This is different,” Thalia finally croaked out, eyes flitting back to Alistair, who had finished with his task and now sat on his chopping stump, sipping from his waterskin. _“_ _He’s_ different, and I-I just can’t mess it up. Aside from you, I think he’s the person I care about most in the world.” Her throat clenched at the end, her body instinctively reacting to the revelation of her deepest emotions. 

Elysia sent Amell a warm, almost motherly smile, brushing a lock of Thalia’s cornsilk hair behind her ear. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, sweets. You may not notice it, but,” Surana smiled secretively, leaning in closer, “when you’re not around, Alistair’s almost always asking questions about you. Maker, half the time he looks at you like the sun shines out your arse!” 

Thalia couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, and soon Elysia joined her. The two mages held each other and giggled themselves senseless, even managing to fall over in the process. They lay in the grass, laughing intermittently as the sun continued to set. Amell’s eyes stayed closed as she let the warmth of the waning light seep into her bones, enjoying the quiet camaraderie for just a moment longer. 

The two were interrupted by a shadow over them and an all-too-familiar clearing of a throat. “I hate to interrupt such a—frankly touching—moment, but, uh, the stew’s ready if you’re hungry.” Amell cracked an eye open to see Alistair, backlit by the sunset and smiling softly. The two locked eyes for just a second, breaking the contact just as quickly as both their cheeks turned pink. 

Silently, Surana stood up, wearing a catlike smile as she did so. She looked back at Thalia, giving an encouraging nod toward their fellow Warden before sauntering away, taking her now-customary spot next to Zevran around the campfire. Amell looked back to Alistair, only to find him staring at her, cheeks even darker than before, his caramel eyes impossibly soft. Thalia stilled for a moment, stunned, before mustering the strength to clear her throat. Alistair actually _jumped,_ hand instinctively moving to scratch the back of his neck as he tried to look anywhere but at Amell. 

“Would you...would you mind helping me up?” Thalia said softly, voice soft and smile shy, tentatively reaching her hand towards him. Alistair perked up immediately, slipping into his usual, goofy demeanor with practiced ease. He gave Amell an overly-dramatic bow before taking her hand in his. 

“I am but your humble servant, dear lady,” he said, tone bordering on coy, before he pulled Thalia to her feet with ease. The mage couldn’t stop her sharp inhale; _Maker,_ he really _was_ strong. Once she was back on her feet, Amell gave him a smirk before dropping into an elegant curtsey, one hand still firmly grasped in Alistair’s. 

“You’re much too kind, good ser,” she replied, “I’m grateful to have such a gallant knight at my side.” The words slipped out naturally, surprising them both. They looked into each other’s eyes for another long moment, wearing matching blushes before Amell felt a rough push to the back of her knees. With a shout, she toppled into Alistair’s chest, only to feel those strong arms she’d been admiring all afternoon wrapped snugly around her ample waist. 

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair’s thumb absentmindedly brushed her side, “Are you alright, Thalia?” The mage struggled for words for a moment, mouth opening and closing as her mind scrambled to find purchase on a coherent thought. A happy bark beat her to it, however, and both Wardens looked down to see Grimoire—Grim for short—wagging his stubby tail and panting up at his mistress. 

“If the two of you are quite finished making doe-eyes at one another, you might want to retrieve your bowls before the sun sets all the way. I would rather you both be focused on a possible darkspawn attack rather than your empty stomachs on watch tonight.” Alistair’s brow immediately furrowed into a scowl at Morrigan’s comment, his hands slowly leaving Thalia’s waist as he muttered “hag” in response. 

“Just a moment, Morrigan!” Thalia called out, letting some of her own annoyance slip into her response. She considered the Witch of the Wilds a friend, but her interruption was more than unwelcome at this exact second. “I’m alright, Alistair. Thank you for catching me.” Alistair flashed her one last nervous grin before fully stepping away, his eyes sparkling as they caught the firelight. 

“I’ll always catch you,” he replied so softly that Amell nearly missed it. Her breath caught and she once again met his gaze, looking for any hint of his jokester’s grin or that humourous spark in his eyes. She found neither. 

It took Grim nudging her once more and giving a concerned whine for Thalia to finally start their walk back to the center of camp, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of her friends’ eyes on her and Alistair. 

* * *

Once the rest of their companions had wandered off to their tents for the night, Amell felt her earlier nervousness return. She and Alistair sat next to each other on one of the logs they’d dragged around the fire, neither realizing they’d slowly been shifting closer to each other throughout the evening. Thalia nearly jumped out of her skin when her knee brushed against Alistair’s. 

“I-uh—” she started, but her words caught in her throat when she looked over to her companion and saw the nervous-yet-determined look he was giving her. 

“Here, look at this,” he brought his far hand into the light, revealing a slightly-drooping rose she’d seen him looking at from time to time. ”Do...do you know what this is?” Amell stared at it for a moment, raising a curious brow before looking back to Alistair’s face. The warrior was staring at the rose, a blush clear across his cheeks. 

“...Is this some kind of trick?” Thalia replied almost automatically. She felt like flinging herself at the fire. _How much deeper could she shove her own foot into her mouth?_ Despite her mortification, Alistair chuckled, though the mage could sense the nerves behind it.

“Yes, absolutely, I’m trying to trick you. Is it working? Aww! Just about had you, didn’t I?” was his rushed reply. Thalia felt guilty for making him sweat but, _Maker..._

“You’ve been thumbing that rose for a while now,” she prompted, studying his face carefully. Whether or not _she_ felt like she was living through one of her romance novels, she wasn’t about to push any of her girlish fantasies on him. 

“I picked it back in Lothering,” he began, calloused finger rubbing gently over one of the velvety petals. “I remember thinking ‘How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?’ I probably should’ve left it alone, but I couldn’t. The darkspawn would come, and their taint would just destroy it...so, I’ve had it ever since.” Thalia took a moment to think on her response this time, hoping something genuine would outweigh her earlier bumbling.

“That’s a lovely sentiment,” she finally said. Sure, it wasn’t poetry nor did it fully encapsulate her thoughts, but she _did_ mean it, truly. And—if the way his eyes, sparkling with hope, flew to hers—it seemed to work just fine. 

“I thought that I might...give it to you, actually,” Alistair’s voice was much softer now, his tone much like a boy asking for another cookie after supper. “In a lot of ways...I think the same thing when I look at you.” Amell’s grip on her robes tightened significantly, and she could feel the flush on her cheeks spread well down past her neck. _Void it all! Was this actually happening? Right now? To_ her?

“Th-thank you, Alistair,” Thalia managed, though she could barely hear herself over her beating heart. “That’s a lovely thought.” Again, her brain was proving anything but useful in the vocabulary department, but she was somehow able to get her tone to match the awestruck giddiness she felt.

Amell watched the warrior’s expression brighten significantly, his eyes hopeful as they searched her face for sarcasm or rejection. She kept her eyes locked on his, silently willing him to know how much she cared. Tentatively, Alistair held the rose out to his companion. Forcing her hand not to shake nor to burst into flame, Thalia reached for the flower, unable to stop the small gasp she emitted when their fingers brushed. She held the rose gently, eyeing it with a reverence she never even gave to the Chantry.

“I’m glad you like it,” Alistair broke the silence that had fallen between them, bringing Amell’s gaze back to his face. He wore his usual, easy half-smile, though this one felt warmer, more special, somehow. “I was just thinking...here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven’t exactly been having a good time of it yourself.” At a loss for what to do with his now-empty hands, Alistair settled for folding them together, twiddling his thumbs as he stared down at them. 

“You’ve had none of the _good_ experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks or congratulations,” he continued, seeming to have started a thumb-war with himself as he sorted his thoughts. “It’s all been death and fighting and...tragedy. I thought, maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and _wonderful_ thing you are to find amidst all this...darkness.” 

Once again, Alistair’s honeyed gaze met Amell’s amber, and the mage felt like she was about to faint. All of this...it was _really happening._ Right here, right now, while she was bloody _awake_ ...Alistair was confessing he had at least _some_ kind of feelings for her. 

“I...I feel the same way about you,” the words left her more quickly and louder than she’d have liked them to, but Thalia didn’t have time to feel embarrassed. She thought of her earlier conversation with Elysia. _No, she wouldn’t leave her feelings unspoken again. This would be different than Cullen...than Jowan._

“I’m...glad you like it,” he repeated, his nervousness returning in full-force. “Now, if we could move right on past this...awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I’d appreciate it.” Thalia’s eyes widened significantly and she began to stutter, and Alistair mimicked her, backtracking immediately. 

“I—It was a joke, I promise!” he blurted, hands waving frantically in front of his face. “Not that—not that I _wouldn’t_ be interested in the...steamy bits—I’d be-I _am_ more than interested—but it’s certainly too soon and I’m not very experienced with this and I—“

At some point during his rambling, Thalia had unlocked some sort of hidden courage, and she leaned forward to place a very chaste kiss to Alistair’s lips. She pulled back quickly, wishing that she could simply vanish into the darkness around them, her cheeks burning and her heart racing. 

Alistair had frozen completely, mouth still half-open in mid-speech. For a moment, Amell thought she might have accidentally frozen him. Already she could picture his possible reactions—laughter, anger, out-right rejection? She didn’t know if she could handle it. Thalia fumbled for the words to take it all back, already feeling the hot sting of tears behind her eyes. She never had the chance, however. 

First came the grip on her right hand, Alistair’s own covering hers where it sat on the log beneath them. Amell stared at their joined hands for a long moment before his other hand jerked her gaze away. The warrior’s other hand rested softly, slightly shaking against her cheek. He caressed a calloused thumb across her cheekbone, and both Wardens inhaled sharply. A cool breeze waved through the trees, bringing a cold tinge to Thalia’s cheeks. She could only guess that she’d started crying. 

The two held each other’s gazes for what felt like ages, Alistair’s eyes glinted golden with hope and a simple question: May I return the gesture? Thalia could barely nod her assent, but Alistair didn’t need much prompting. He leaned in—almost too quickly—and captured her lips with his, his own hesitant and gentle. A sudden boldness rippled through the mage, and Thalia found herself responding with more force, her pent-up desperation guiding her free hand to the back of his neck and her tongue across his lips, softly testing. 

A small whine came from somewhere in the back of Alistair’s throat, and Amell took the movement from his hand—from atop hers on the log to around her waist as he scooted ever closer to her—as a sign that he was pleased with where this was going. His lips parted slightly beneath hers and she took the invitation. When their tongues met, both Wardens made similar sounds of pleasure, pressing as close together as possible. 

They finally parted for breath but kept their foreheads pressed together, both breathing heavily and simply reveling in the feeling of holding one another. Once she thought she’d regained some of her grounding, Thalia opened her eyes, only to meet Alistair’s. The warrior gazed at her with a softness that Amell had never experienced before. Her mind bounced to the flowery descriptions from some of her favorite stories, and even they couldn’t compare to how... _everything_ she felt in that moment. 

“Is this…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her own crushing hope reflecting in Alistair’s eyes. His thumb traced her cheek once more. 

“Only if you want it to be,” he replied, mouth quirking into a nervous little grin that Amell had imagined kissing away more than once. It took a moment, but she had an excellent realization. Just as softly and quickly as the first time, she pressed her lips to the upturned corner of his mouth, her own smile growing as she watched those happy little crinkles appear at the corner of his eyes. 

“I’ve _wanted_ it to be for...much longer than I care to admit,” Thalia murmured, the hand in his hair gently brushing through the short locks at the nape of his neck. Alistair let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a purr, but Amell would have to look into that more later. Alistair’s lips were back on hers in an instant, warm and desperate but were gone far too quickly. 

“ _Maker’s breath,_ but you’re beautiful,” he whispered. The happiness on his face was nearly blinding. “Thank goodness I took initiative with the whole sentimental-flower-picking scheme. I don’t know how I could go on much longer knowing I’d be missing out on this.” He gave her hip a little squeeze, and Thalia yelped, lurching forward and off of her perch. Alistair seemed just as surprised at the movement, and their kiss-tangled limbs brought both Wardens off of the log and onto the ground. 

Thalia immediately sat up, automatically self-conscious of her weight atop Alistair. His grip, now fully around her full hips, stayed iron-clad, however, and he stared up at her in a mixture of awe and concern. He reached a hand up—letting it just barely brush her curves on is way up—to brush some of her nearly-white hair out of her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of rustling canvas froze them both in place. 

“If you two are _finally_ going to make good on those longing glances of yours, would you perhaps do so with fewer sounds of clanging metal? If it is not too much trouble, of course.” Zevran’s amused lilt brought Thalia’s firey, defensive glare out in full force, and the assassin winced but retained his easy smile. 

“I meant no disrespect, my friends. Merely a suggestion,” he put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Please, carry on in your...evening activities.” Amell watched the elf disappear back into his tent and continued to level her gaze at the opening as if daring him to even peek at them. Alistair giggling underneath her brought her back to the moment at hand. 

“I should have known this wouldn’t ever go smoothly,” he chuckled. Amell felt her gut clench for a moment. Had the interruption changed his mind? Alistair sat up easily, holding Thalia closely in his lap, before leaning in to press a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose. “But I’d rather bumpy and awkwardly-interrupted-by-failed-assassins than nothing at all.” 

Thalia’s smile was wider than it had been in Maker-knew how long. She took one last moment to study the warrior’s face before she buried her own against his neck, hugging him tight against her. He stiffened for just a moment before returning the embrace, holding her close as he stroked her back. They sat like that for quite a while, basking in the warmth of each other rather than the fire. 

“If you tell anyone I cried in front of you, I’m putting a whole family of lizards in your bedroll,” she said against his neck. Alistair faked an affronted gasp, pulling away to fully pull off his faux-wounded look. Amell smiled softly, rolling her eyes before kissing him sweetly on the cheek. “Oh, come now, you big baby. You know I like you too much to do that.” 

He morphed quickly back into his warm, twitterpated expression, and—for maybe the first time since she’d followed Jowan into the Circle’s storage room all those months ago—Thalia Amell felt truly at home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully y'all enjoyed this taste of the friendship between my ethereal, powerful goddess Surana and insecure, nerdy goth Amell! I love the idea of the two of them Warden-ing together, helping each other adapt to life outside the Circle each step of the way. Let me know what you think, and thank you so much for reading!


End file.
